Draco's War
by FangBreath
Summary: Before the final battle, Draco receives a visit from an old friend and is forced to decide where his loyalties truly lie. PostHogwarts. Pre HBP. Rating is for later chapters. Please review!
1. Prologue

AN: This is my first Harry Potter fic, feedback is greatly appreciated (no flames please).

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, why would I be writing fanfic? I own nothing, don't sue.

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Heavy raindrops ram into the pavement, lightning illuminates the ominous black sky with jittery blue bolts. The sound of the roaring thunder is ringing through my ears and still I sit unmoving. It is so strange to see people walking around, innocently going on with their daily lives, completely unaware of the imminent danger they are in. They are truly ignorant to the fact that this may be the last time they do their menial chores, even if they do survive.

Even stranger yet is that the fate of the free world may not lie in the hands of "The Boy Who Lived," but instead in my own. Draco Malfoy, the root of all evil, may be only chance Potter's side has. So I remain seated on a street curb, gathering my thoughts. They carry me back to the previous day when I received a visit from a member of the not-so-secret Order of the Phoenix.

"_Tell me, Draco, is this how you truly want to be remembered at the end of all of this? A traitor to all wizards..."_

"_TRAITOR?! It's you and your precious band of do-gooders who've_ _let those filthy mudbloods infiltrate our world!"_

_My interruption went unnoticed by the speaker. "You're a _murderer_, Draco. And what's worse is that you're not even murdering for yourself, you're taking countless lives for a wizard who'd let you go to Azkaban without giving it a second thought. You're just another one of his worthless minions. Is that what the infamous Draco Malfoy has been reduced to, some wizard's scapegoat?"_

"_I'm not a scapegoat!" I screamed, but even as I said the words I knew they were lies._

"_You have a chance to make something of yourself. Take it! I did."_

"_Yeah, and look where it got you. You're Potter's bitch just like the rest of them!"_

_I watched as his eyes flashed in anger. A malicious smile slowly formed on my face when I realized I hit a weak spot. "Don't talk about things you don't know," he growled in a low voice._

"_I can talk about whatever the hell I like! I remember the days when I used to look up to you– what was I thinking?" _

" _I know you, Draco. I know you don't care about mudbloods. I don't see your father or the Dark Lord anywhere, you don't have to put on an act." He was becoming desperate._

" _So what if this is an act? Just because I don't care about mudbloods doesn't mean I'm going to pick up a trumpet and join the Harry Potter marching band."_

"_The Dark Lord's power is waning; you know it and he knows it. A new world is about to dawn, why are you falling down with the old one? Be strong and fight with us."_

"_And then do what? Jump on the bandwagon and become one of you, St. Potter's rescue squad? I don't reckon that'll happen, Snape."_

"_Don't let Harry Potter make the decision for you. Just think about it. You know where to find us."_

With those parting words, my old professor disapparated, leaving me alone with my uncertainty. I suspect he'd be happy to know that his words have been haunting me since our meeting.

I would like to say that this conversation had absolutely no effect on me, that I feel complete conviction in the Dark Lord's purpose, but I can't. When did everything get so complicated? All my life I've never doubted anything about my position in this conflict, why would I start now?

As I sit here all I can think about is the "good old days" back at Hogwarts. Those were the days when a good insult could fix everything for at least a week. It is hard for me to believe there was a time when the fate of the world wasn't on the line. I wish I had one day more to think about my choices. I wish I didn't have choices.

Yet there is truth in Snape's words: I can't let Harry Potter make this decision for me. I can't allow my hatred to cancel out the idea of taking his side in this final battle. Not everything is about the famous Harry Potter.

When I was young I had visions of greatness. I dreamed of being the Dark Lord's right hand– not literally of course. I dreamed that one day, should he fall, that I would be the new Dark Lord. When I look back on those dreams I know that I was raised to desire such evil; the question is whether or not I still desire that same evil.

Suddenly, I am jerked out of my thoughts by some woman trampling all over me and wacking me with her unnaturally large shopping bag with every step she takes.

"Watch where you're going, you crazy bloody witch!" I yell.

She quickly walked away with a huff, her feathers clearly ruffled.

The interruption is a chance for me to get some perspective on the situation at hand. It seems that all my complaints only prove that my life is shit, but that is no reason to save Potter's skin. Still, if I side with the Dark Lord then I am selling myself short. I could never face myself again if I waste my life away serving somebody who will never even see my power. Draco Malfoy is no one's lackey! It's not about siding with Potter, it's about siding with myself, it's about making my presence in the wizarding world known– and not just through my father.

It's also about leaving my family forever, about never seeing my parents again. I don't particularly mourn the loss of my parents, but they are all I've ever known. Betraying the Malfoy's will turn my world inside out, maybe even literally (they are all quite good at curses).

It is with a heavy heart that I finally arrive at my final decision. Now all I can do is hope that it is the right one. A pop is heard as I apparate to where my loyalties truly lie.

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AN: Thanks for reading! Now it's time to review. I'm desperate for feedback on this. Tell me if I should continue. I'm not really sure I like the whole first-person thing. Thanks again! 


	2. Conversations with Portraits

AN: This chapter is a little longer than the last one. I hope you like it. If you read it, _please_ review and tell me what you think. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter.

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Draco apparated into the middle of an empty London street. If these were "normal" circumstances, then he would have been lost. But these are in no way "normal" circumstances. He did not just come here for an evening stroll, there was a higher cause for walking down the filthy street. He looked at the houses, carefully examining the numbers in order to find the correct address. Even though he had already made his decision, even though he was already sure of himself, there remained a prominent voice in his head screaming, _This is wrong! I've made the wrong choice. _

His unwelcome thoughts are interrupted as he found the address used as the headquarters. "12 Grimmauld Place." He knocked on the door and the most get-at-able person happened to answer.

"Weaselbee!" Draco said with mock happiness.

Obviously, the youngest Weasley boy didn't even try to play "happy". The door abruptly slammed shut Draco's face. He knocked once again, louder this time.

"Malfoy, give me one good reason why I shouldn't Avada Kedavra your ass!"

"Well, aren't we touchy this evening. Besides, I happen to like my ass and somehow I don't think the killing curse will have a positive affect on it. Anyways, I 'd love to stand here and chat with you some more, but I came to talk to Snape. Would you be a doll and tell him I'm here?" He had to admit, it was a lot of fun getting Weasley all boiled up again. His ears still turn that same shade of red. The only thing different was that this time his left clenched fist had a gold ring on it.

"So you and Potter finally tied the knot, eh? Congratulations." This smart-ass comment was the last straw. Ron joined Draco outside and shut the door behind him.

"Listen, Weaselbee, I don't think this is the right time for a snog session on the porch, seeing as you're married and all. I don't think it would be fair to Potter."

"_You_ listen, Malfoy. I know that Snape's been trying to get you on our side. He has a crazy idea that your trustworthy. I don't. I could kill you and not even give it a second thought. You're nothing, do you understand? Know one would even shed a tear if you died."

Draco was taken aback by his words and the truth that they held. Who would mourn him if he died? No one. No one would water his lonely grave with their salty tears. But he'd known this, it was nothing he hadn't already contemplated; and yet hearing the words still made an impact, made it real.

Another thing that shocked Draco was the malice in the redhead's voice. Ron had actually become... intimidating— not to Draco of course, but that wasn't the point. Times really had changed.

He looked up to see Ron with a satisfied grin plastered on his befreckled face. The bastard struck a nerve and he knew it. The blond boy's temper was beginning to rise and he knew that this show of testosterone was starting to get old— fast.

"Just let me talk to Snape!" he snapped.

Ron opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

"Up the stairs, third door on the left. Try to be quiet."

Malfoy stepped into the dark, dank house. He was surprised to see the living room full of people. For some reason, he pictured Potter command central as a place that was empty save for the wizards apparating in and out, receiving orders and leaving to carry them out. Instead it was full of people, some glum, some cheerful, and some staring at him. Staring seemed to be a popular trend that spread like wildfire through the house as he walked deeper inside. Most of the eyes that stared at him were half shocked and half loathing, save but one: those of Hermione Granger.

Her gaze was so focussed that he felt it burning him when he walked in. It was more curious than the rest. She was searching him with her big, brown eyes, looking for his purpose, his endgame. Draco looked right back at her, daring her to look away. She didn't. He was finally forced to break the connection by distracting whispers that engulfed the room.

Soon the whispers began to circulate, becoming increasingly louder as the seconds ticked on. The Slytherin felt self conscious, like he had just walked into the Great Hall dressed in a bright pink tutu. He decided to ignore the stares as best he could and hurriedly made his way to the second floor. Too hurriedly. He tripped over a poorly placed umbrella and didn't even see it coming.

Suddenly, there was a terrible scream. The curtains next to him burst open and an old woman in a portrait ranted in ear-piercing shrieks.

"STRAINS OF DISHONOR, FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BLOOD TRAITORS, CHILDREN OF FILTH, MUDBLOOD..." Her shrieks died down and she spoke in a normal voice. Her already wrinkled face creased further in confusion. "You're pure. You're heart is the right place. Who are you?"

The boy recovered from his initial shock. "Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy," the portrait said. "Tell me, boy. Are you Lucius's son?"

"Um, yes I am."

The woman smiled. "Well then, Draco. Welcome to the noble and most ancient house of Black." Her face changed as if she remember something and she eyed him warily for a moment. "How did you get in here? If you are what I think you are, if you are a spy, then how is it that you walk freely about this house?"

"I'm not a spy," he replied. "I walk freely because I was invited."

"Invited! You need not lie to me, it is of no use. I can sense people. I can sense that you are not here to benefit the filth downstairs. You're soul is not like their's, it is filled with..."

"Draco!" He jumped as Snape's voice pulled him out the strange conversation. For this Malfoy was grateful because the words spoken by the mysterious portrait were becoming eerily disquieting, although he regretted not finding out what his soul was filled with.

As Snape walked out his room the woman's eyes danced maliciously toward him and she recommenced with her ear-piercing ranting.

"YOU FILTHY UNTHANKFUL WRETCH! BLOOD TRAITOR, MUGGLE LOVER, SCUM..."

With an angry flick of his wand he sealed the curtains shut, effectively muffling the noise. "Follow me, Draco."

Draco followed him down the hall and into the third door on the left. Snape shut the door behind them.

The room they walked into was crammed to the ceiling with thousands of vials filled with different potions and ingredients. It was a small potions laboratory which is fitting since Snape is a potions master. He sat at a small desk speckled with empty glass vials and notes on bits of parchment.

"What was that about?" Draco asked, referring to the bizarre incident in the hall.

"The portrait out in the hall is Sirius Black's mother. She doesn't like us and she gets a little...eccentric at times. Just don't make too much noise and the old bat can be easily avoided."

"Do...Does she ever just talk?" The "yes" answer he was looking for would serve well to calm his fears, to prove that she really was only a crazy old bat.

The potions master looked at Draco like he had grown another head. "Talk? No. She screams, she shrieks, she insults, but she doesn't talk. I don't think she knows how to just talk."

Wrong answer. His response only served to prove that the blond's encounter in the hallway was probably one of a kind. Snape was the only one there that was "pure." If Snape didn't get a normal word out of her than it was not just blood that made her speak, it was Draco. It was his soul, the treachery that she sensed. Portraits don't lie, even he had to admit there was truth in her words.

Just then, Snape motioned for him to sit down in the seat across from his. He obliged.

"You've changed your mind."

"I suppose you want me to tell you everything."

"Naturally. Isn't that why you're here?"

"You want their battle plans?" He nodded. "My father's battalion will strike first. It won't be that many; it can be easily defeated."

An exasperated Snape interrupted. "You're lying."

The young wizard payed no attention to the older wizard's interruption and continued. "In fact, you'll think you've got them, you'll think you're going to win. That's when Voldemort's real forces will come in. They'll fly in on broomsticks from behind, wands at the ready; all while you lot are beginning to celebrate your victory. Everyone will die; women, children...even Harry. That is how your world will end."

The professor eyed him suspiciously. "How can I be sure you're not lying?"

"Don't ask questions that you can answer." He could see the wheels in the professor's head turning. He could see that the man was thinking of something— Veritaserum.

He got up from his chair and began rummaging through potions. He poured one into a small glass vial and handed it to Draco, grumbling "drink this."

Draco obeyed. Less than a second after he downed it, he felt it's terrible effects. His chest tightened. He felt as if his skin would rip apart, but if he ever learned anything from Voldemort it's to be tough like nails.

"I only gave you enough to last for about one minute, so speak quickly. Were you telling the truth before?"

Snape's voice seemed so distant, so small. Draco could barely distinguish it. "Yes," he said through clenched teeth.

"Tell me the Dark Lord's battle plans."

With the addition of some colorful four-letter words, the young man told him exactly what was said before.

Snape smiled. "The potion should wear off in about ten seconds. If you'll excuse me I have some business to attend to. Go down the living room, it's not wise to go traipsing around this house. There are rooms that have never been explored." With those parting words, he left Draco to his own devises.

As much as he detested the idea, Malfoy decided it was best to take his advice and go down to the living room. Nothing good could come of defying Snape's wishes. He made his way down the hall towards the staircase. He could feel the dark, eery stare of Mrs. Black from behind her curtain, but she did not stir. The living room and all it's occupants were waiting. Let the awkwardness begin.

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AN: So what did you think? I decided to try out something not in first person. Which one do you think is better? Please review. BTW if you like this you might like my other story "Funeral for a Enemy." 


	3. Hermione's Interlude

AN: Sorry for taking so long to update. This chapter has been written for weeks, but I didn't have time to post it. Anyway, I felt the need to explain what exactly happened in the last chapter and what will happen in the next chapter.

Hermione heard a knock at the door and, soon after, she saw Ron move to answer it. She watched curiously as he slammed it shut.

"Ron, who was that?" she asked.

A very annoyed-looking Ron was about to answer when the knocking started up again, except this time louder and more persistent. He opened the door and stepped outside.

"Who do you think's at the door?" the red haired girl next to her asked.

"I don't know, Gin. Whoever it is, Ron doesn't look too happy about it."

The red head thought for a moment. "It could be Draco Malfoy. Remember, Snape went to talk to him? Maybe he convinced him to join our side. What do you think?" She asked again.

"I think that's very wishful thinking," Hermione said with in an exasperated voice.

Just then, Ron opened the door and muttered something to the blond young man that strutted in. It was, indeed, Draco Malfoy.

Ginny turned to Hermione with raised eyebrows. "What was that you said about 'wishful thinking'?"

She chose to ignore the Weasley girl and kept her focus on Draco. He was different, he had somehow changed— yet he was exactly the same. She searched him with her eyes, trying to pry open his soul. That task became even harder when he met her gaze with equal confusion and added malice. She kept watching him as time progressed, but that became harder when the curious whispers started. He moved faster up the stairs until Hermione could see him no more. She had missed out on her chance to figure out his end game, the ulterior motive she knew he had.

"I hate him,"seethed Ron, who was now sitting on Hermione's other side.

"What's he doing here?" Hermione asked.

"Hell if I know. All he said was that he wanted to speak to Snape. He didn't say why."

"I _told_ you he's coming to our side," said Ginny. Hermione shook her head in thought.

"Just because he's here, doesn't mean he's repentant."

"I'm with 'Mione. The day that Malfoy's on our side, I'll wash Snape's hair."

The three of them turned their heads in shock and curiosity as cries of anguish were heard from beyond the stairwell.

"I wonder what's going on up there," Ginny said. Ron scoffed.

"Snape probably told Malfoy he has split ends or something."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the childish comment. There were some things that would never change. Her gaze slowly moved from the arguing siblings and down to her left hand. But then again, if the ring on her finger meant anything, some things did change. Her thoughts wandered to memories of their wedding; a small, rushed ceremony in the Weasley's backyard. It was all they could afford with the little money that they had. Harry, in a very sweet and thoughtful gesture, offered to help pay for the wedding, but she and Ron refused to take his money. After all, it was _their_ wedding, not Harry's. Besides, she loved Ron and a glittery wedding would be small and insignificant in comparison to the rest of their lives.

Hermione then remembered where she was. The rest of their lives. How long would that be? With the eminent danger of the coming night hanging over their heads, she couldn't help but wonder if they would have a "rest of their lives." She wondered if they would wake up the next morning, or if there would even be a morning. She wondered if there was any hope at all. Suddenly, she felt something she loathed to feel: Genuine fear. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time, even during times of almost certain death— and in her life, there were a lot of them— she failed to experience teeth-chattering fear. Deep down she knew that those other times couldn't even begin to compare to that particular night because that night would be the end of their cause, win or lose. At that moment, Hermione feared the sunset just as Lupin feared the moon.

And where was Harry in all of this? Out. Probably planning with Lupin, Moody, Tonks, the Weasley's, and other aurors, but Ron and a few others remained to guard the house. After all, the house needed protection from people like Draco, the man they had just invited in. Hermione almost shook her head at the irony. She really respected Harry's courage and the leadership he had shown since they left Hogwarts. For once, he acted like the leader the wizarding world had portrayed him to be. He had grown up their seventh year, as did all of them. There were serious times ahead and serious times called for mature adults, not silly children. But as brave as Harry was, Hermione still worried about him. He continued to suppress his emotions just as he had in their Hogwarts days, and she knew that wasn't healthy. Someone with the worries and troubles that he had shouldn't be bottling up their emotions because someday, they might crack under all the pressure. Her husband interrupted her thoughts.

"What do you think 'Mione?"

"About what?"

"About Malfoy's hair. I think he dyes it, but Ginny thinks its natural."

Hermione smiled. She admired the siblings' resilience, their ability to joke at a time like this. She wished that she could find the time between panicking and planning to laugh, but she could not. Ron quickly picked up on this.

"We can't do anything about anything right now, there's no use in worrying yourself to tears."

"That's why I'm worrying, because I can't do anything," she explained.

"Well, if it helps, you can try and figure out what Malfoy's up to. Inquiring minds want to know," Ron said with a playful smirk.

Just then, she heard the stairs creak and saw Draco beginning to walk down. "Yes, I think I'll do just that."

"You better get the shampoo ready when she's done, Ron," an amused Ginny said. "I think Snape will prefer the flowery scents."

"Shut it, Ginny," was Ron's only reply.

AN: So what did you think? The next chapter will definitely be Draco-centric. Please review!


	4. Curiosity Can Be Dangerous

AN: Hello! I know I haven't written in a really long time, but I've been kind of busy lately. Thanks to all the people who reviewed, I really appreciate it! Anyway this part of the story is mostly dialogue, which I've never really done so bare with me. On to the fic...

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It was tempting, hiding in the corner of the room and hoping that know one would see me. It was pointless, but tempting anyhow. All eyes were on me once again as a walked down the stairs— if only I had gotten half this much attention at Hogwarts, it would have been a step up. I immediately spotted Potter's friends and intended to approach them, but thought better of it. Making a snide remark about them in a house full of Potter's devoted followers probably wouldn't be such a good idea. Instead, I opted to stand at the base of the stairs near the hallway, waiting for something, anything, to divert the attention of everyone in the room. 

Suddenly, something– or rather some_one_– did. Hermione Granger walked cooly over to me (once again, the attention was in my general direction) and took a seat on the stairs. She remained quiet for a long while, merely sitting and staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper across the room. At first, I was confused by this– why come over here and not say anything?– but as people started minding their own business I rememberedthat she wasaclever littlewitch. Soon, nobody was even acknowledging my existence.

"So, Malfoy, how are you?" she causally asked.

Ah, yes, small talk– how lovely...except for not really. I felt like telling her to get to the interrogation I knew she was plotting, but decided against it. I was curious as to how she would get there. I went along with her game.

"Oh, I'm fantastic, and you?" I said in a sarcastic voice.

"The same, of course."

"That's good, that's good. And your husband?"

"He's fine."

"I'm glad to hear it."

The annoying small talk was beginning to wear on me at this point.

"Alright, Granger, cut to the chase. What did you really want to talk to me about?"

She looked a little surprised at my sudden outburst. Honestly, did she really think I was going to stand there and listen to her talk about everyone's welfare? But much to my disappointment, she ignored the sudden outburst and continued.

"You must feel right at home in this house, huh?"

"Please, this dump? I'd feel more at home in a garbage bin."

She rolled her eyes.

"I meant you must feel at home with all the dark magic around."

I thought back to the talkative portrait upstairs, the house was positively trickling with dark magic. However, these thoughts remained in their rightful place— my head.

"Yes, there is a lot of dark magic in this house, I can feel it. But it's nothing compared to the Malfoy mansion. If a good little witch like yourself ever wants to jump out of her skin, or perhaps just out of her clothes, that is the place to go." I raised my eyebrows to complete the suggestion.

As I expected, the fun flirtation was only one sided. She, once again, ignored my comments.

"Well, you haven't been in all of the rooms. We like to steer clear of the very dark ones, they haven't been entered in decades and barging in could awaken something quite unpleasant."

"What better place for an interrogation than a very dark room?" I smiled as her eyes widened. She unwittingly put the thought in my head and now it was time to pay the consequences.

Before Granger could say another word, I began to walk down the hallway, shopping for the right door at every new step.

"Malfoy, you idiot! Get back here!" I heard her calling me as quietly as possible.

"What's the matter, Granger? You're not scared, are you?" I hardly expected this cheap, predictable line to work. I didn't think for one minute that Granger would fall for something so unoriginal.

"I've been through a lot more than you think, this house doesn't scare me."

"Prove it," I prodded.

"I don't have to prove anything to you."

"No, I suppose you don't. It also doesn't help that you're scared." I couldn't believe she was actually rising to the bait. I could see that she was becoming increasingly irritated by the second.

"Fine. If it'll shut you up," she mumbled while walking toward me and putting her hand on a random doorknob.

"How's this one?" She asked, but before I could reply she had already turned the doorknob and had one foot in the door. I stood motionless, completely amazed that such a petty challenge could get a rise out of her.

"Are you coming?" Impatient, that one. I followed her into the dark, quiet room.

"Alright, I suppose the interrogation can now commence," I said.

"I think a light would help, and I'd rather our little chat be thought of as a conversation, you know, between two old friends."

I let out a mirthless laugh. "Oh yes, old friends, of course."

I could hear her stumbling in the dark.

"Have you thought that maybe you should help me find a light so we don't have to wander around hoping not to trip?"

"Not really, and last I checked, you were the one doing the wandering, I'm just staying here until you can remember something that I already know. Oh, and just so you know, I don't think I'd mind it all that much if you did trip, so feel free to do so at any time." Pushing buttons— fun, even in the dark.

I could imagine her beautiful brown eyes flame with annoyance and anger, just like they did at Hogwarts not long ago.

She tightened her jaw and grinded her teeth to hold in her anger as she spoke. "Okay Malfoy, what do you remember that I don't?"

"That you're a witch, or at least something that passes for one. I still wonder how you were ever thought to be the brightest witch in our year."

Hermione took out her wand. "Lumos." The room immediately filled with light.

"Good job, Granger! I'm glad you finally realized that you can use a wand for light."

"Shut it, Malfoy, before I realize what else I can use my wand for!" She pointed her wand at me menacingly, daring me to push more buttons. I remained silent, preoccupying myself with observing the room that we had stumbled across.

The furniture was more than a bit dusty; what was left of the hardwood floor lay below us, creaky and perilous. The wallpaper was peeled in giant flower-print curls and, though there were many frames on the wall, none of them held any portraits. They had, no doubt, gone to other more joyous rooms. Despite all of it's shortcomings, the room had a slight appeal to it. The room's appearance revealed that it was once a grand parlor, used to entertain the most honored guests. Many important dark wizards had been in this room.

"You call this a 'dark room,' Granger? This room has about as much dark magic as Madame Puddifoot's."

"Appearances are deceiving, you should know that by now."

"Somehow I don't think a room is all that mystical. It's just a parlor, by the looks of it. Besides, who puts flower-print wallpaper in a room that is supposed to be packed with dark magic? It's a definite faux pas."

She was staring at me with amused brown eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"Faux pas? You sound like Lavender and Parvati!" She laughed at the thought.

I had heard them talk while at Hogwarts and, from that little experience, knew that this was an insult. But at the same time, I could not deny it. After all, they did have a good sense of style.

"Okay, I'll give you that one, but there's a difference between them and me..."

"I should hope so," she interrupted, still giggling.

I ignored her and continued.

"They are not half as bright as I am."

"And what makes you so bright?"

"You may have been the brightest witch in our year, but didn't you know that I was the brightest wizard. That's right, I was right behind you and if it wasn't for that last transfiguration assignment I would have beat you."

"But you didn't, oh well."

She was actually smiling when she said this. I couldn't recall the last time I saw her smile and laugh so much. It should have made me happy that she wasn't snapping at me every chance she got, but the truth is that it made me uneasy, it was unnatural.

"What puts you in such a good mood?" I asked.

"Honestly? I don't know. It's just, well, this room is so beautiful and it makes me happy just to look at it. I can't explain it."

The second I heard this I felt panic rise in me. With desperate speed I turned toward the exit, but it was just as I suspected. Instead of the door that belonged there, there was now a wall, just as thick and sturdy as the rest of the room, as if it had always been there.

Hermione followed my panicked movements toward the wall.

"What did you do! Where's the door!" Right away she snapped at me, so much for her good mood. But we had other things to worry about.

"Bloody hell! You may not be able to explain your good mood, but I think I can."

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AN: I hope you liked it. I'll try to write more soon, but I'm not saying when. I will say that I won't just leave this unfinished, I'm determined to finish it. By the way, this I don't know if this is going to be a D/Hr fic. I like reading them but I'm not sure if I can write them. I still don't know what to do with Draco (i.e. if he'll die or live, become good or bad). Any opinions are always appreciated. Anyway, thanks for reading, please review. 


	5. New Friends and Bad Timing

AN: I think this chapter has a weird Breakfast Club affect on it. Read it and you'll see what I mean.

"What do you mean by that!"

"I mean that it's a diversion. Look around! We've already determined this room was a parlor, but it was probably more than that. It has the _arca sublimis_ spell on it." I turned to Hermione. "You do know what that is, right?"

She glared. "Of course I know what that is."

"Well, a few minutes ago you didn't know how to use _lumos_ so I don't want to take anything for granted."

"Make people happy then lock them in a room. It makes sense that the Black's would put something like this in their house, it's an easy way to trap their enemies; lure them into a parlor that makes them very happy and take the door away right under their noses. The best part is you don't have to waste any time on drinks."

"Yes, well, as unbelievably fascinating as your cynicism is, we're stuck here now and we have to find a way out."

"The only real way out is if someone opens the door from the outside. Any other doors will take us deeper into the labyrinth and we'll never get out."

"So we wait."

"We wait," she confirmed.

"That's a great plan, genius really," I said sarcastically. "The thing is, nobody knows we're here."

"Someone's bound to notice we're missing."

"Yes, they're bound to notice that we're missing, but they won't know where! They're not going to know that we're in the bloody room or even in this bloody house!"

"There's nothing we can do about it now so I suggest you either stop panicking or shut up!"

"Panicking? I do not panic."

"Then you're a great actor."

"On second thought, yeah, I do panic...especially at the thought of spending the rest of my life with a self righteous bitch like yourself!"

"Let me see if I can remember that spell Moody taught me. You remember, right? The one that turns you into a bouncing ferret!"

"Oh Merlin! I'm going to be spending forever with Granger. Kill me now!"

"Only if you insist."

"You would, wouldn't you? Off me like that?" I noticed her look down at me, trying to hide her thoughts. "No, don't be ashamed. That's not a really unique notion. My own father would off me if the price was right." The second the words came out my mouth I regretted them. It was too much information, especially to reveal to someone who was a virtual stranger. The stranger remained quiet for a moment.

"I wouldn't off you," she said so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

"I know you wouldn't," I replied warmly.

"Would you kill me?"

That question came out of nowhere and caught me off guard. Given the chance, would I kill Hermione Granger?

"Strangely enough, I don't think I would." I didn't really hate her, so I really had no reason to want her dead. I admired her too much to hate her. She was a clever and powerful witch and she could hold her own on the battle field, even sans auror training. I suppose that those should have been reasons enough to want her dead, but for some inexplicable reason they did not constitute murder in my mind.

"That's good to hear." There was a pause. "Why are you here, Draco?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

"You're lying."

"Out of my arse." I grinned.

"Seeing as I don't think an interrogation would be of any use, what do you propose we do until help arrives?"

That was too easy. I raised my eyebrows suggestively. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm married."

"Now that you mention it, I've been meaning to discuss your poor taste in men."

"Excuse me?"

"Weasley? I'm sure that even you can do better than him. You definitely have horrid taste in men."

"I said no to you, so that should give me points."

"Stop trying to fight it; you want me," I said with mock seriousness, making her giggle.

"Draco, we need to get out of here."

She was right, but how? There was no telling how long we had been stuck in that room or how long we would be stuck. Zero hour was quickly nearing with each passing second, but the two us were sitting ducks in this doorless room from hell. I constantly scolded myself for not being able to detect the trap sooner. I wracked my brain for a solution but came up blank.

"You said it yourself: we have to wait for someone to find us," I replied patiently.

"But there's got to be a way out! We can't wait in here forever!"

"If there was an easy way out this spell wouldn't be very effective, would it?"

She thought for a moment. "I suppose not, but this is driving me mad with worry. For all we know, everyone's already dead."

At this moment, to my surprise, she began to cry softly. I had never seen Hermione Granger cry. This is not to say that I think she had never cried, but only that _I_ had never seen her cry. This put me in quite an awkward situation: what should I do if one of my mortal enemies starts crying. The normal answer would be to laugh, but because I had formed a sort of twisted bond with Hermione this normal answer would not work. The next time a brought my eyes toward her, she was crying slightly harder.

"Erm...are you okay?" was my awkward response.

"I'm sorry, I just can't take this for much longer. I keep thinking that something has happened to Ginny, Harry, or...Ron." After she said that last name she began to weep harder.

I finally realized that in this room, at least, Hermione Granger was not my mortal enemy or a Mudblood. Instead, she was simply a girl. I tentatively put my arms around her tiny, shaking body. When I was sure that she wouldn't pull away, I hugged her tighter as she continued to weep into my shoulder.

"Everything's okay. We'll get out of here before you know it, don't worry." I whispered these and other promises to calm her. Shortly after, her crying stopped altogether.

"I feel so stupid. When did I become such a wimp?"

"Shh, your not a wimp," I reassured her softly. "Worrying about the ones you love does not make you a wimp." For some odd reason she was still leaning on my shoulder, but I wasn't about to complain.

Click She and I both stiffened with fear and guilt. Someone had found us at the worst possible moment.

"Hermione?" A pained voice came from the door. It was Weasley.

AN: I'll try to update soon. Tell me what you think!


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